The DMV: The Great Equalizer

In my usual form, I put off doing the inevitable as long as possible: Personally going to the DMV (or RMV depending on where you live- either way, it's the gateway to having a car in your name on the road or a license with your goofy picture on it enabling you to drive a car, buy cigarettes or booze, etc.) to register my husband's (and my) new "old" truck. It's amazing how many things I was able to come up with to defer this little task- I had to surf the web for early Christmas shopping deals, had to fold the 18 millionth load of laundry, had to revise my resume yet again (I'm on the hunt for a job suitable to being a mother of young children, utilizing my brain to a degree that renders me not so useless or depressed or bored in daily life and providing enough income to recuperate some of the massive debt I've incurred on behalf of our family in my last entrepreneurial endeavor- all this is yet another 100 posts), had to...

Time was up. I couldn't avoid it any longer- the new "old" truck (which, unlike the old truck, had a driver's door that actually closed instead of supposedly being held shut by a lame bungee cord which let loose any time you took a sharp right) was ready to hit the road and the new rig needed some plates. 

But first, a little background. I have been a bit (a "bit" of an understatement) discouraged of late. It's been one hell of a year in the way of personally growth imposed upon me by my decision to part ways with my former business partner and once dear, dear friend. Long and short of it is that my decision to leave produced not only an eight month stint of legal "negotiations" (extremely trying in their own right but I do now have a new found appreciation for attorneys!) but an opportunity for me to step back and evaluate how I came to be in the situation in the first place. As is the case with most things, what takes place on the surface merely indicates what lies far beneath and my "beneath" was desperate for some much needed attention. So for the last year I have basically been uncovering a lot of crap I would prefer not to "see" or, more aptly put, "feel." I am a chronic second guesser of myself with a limited sense of self-worth and this past year, and the process of unraveling another layer of who I am and where I come from, has been a painful journey to take better care of myself in order to eventually be able to look in the mirror and genuinely feel love towards myself. Not just love but a real sense of value, worth, even joy in myself. 

The days prior to my visit to the DMV felt much like a huge setback in my journey to coming to terms with what I call "life on life's terms" and heeding my intuition to ultimately care for myself. I had taken a sales position with a publishing company with compensation based solely on commission. I felt I had to "get out there" to work and recuperate some debt so I dug in and set about "faking it till I made it." Slight problem occurred, however, when I uncovered- or rather didn't uncover- the lack of sales tools by which I could actually sell the product. Now I confess my sense of purposeful business plans, etc. is heightened due to my recent entrepreneurial experience (basically called "What Not to Do in Business") but, even without this sensitivity, the entity lacked some serious direction by which to sail its course or even basic information that should have been provided a salesperson compensated on straight commission. In my typical form, I pressed on in my efforts to "fill in the gaps" like the dutiful child (intentional use of the term there) I am. And then it occurred to me, "Wait a minute- why am I the only one trying to make this better or even ethically right?!" What was I going to do? I didn't want to be a "quitter" but I also could not allow myself to repeat my pattern of "giving myself away for free" because I fundamentally didn't believe in myself or skills (even though there is proof in the pudding that it's not all a sham). Scared shitless but also a bit defiant, I mustered up the nerve to meet with the publisher and lay my concerns on the line. The meeting seemed to go well and upon conclusion I was instructed to present a marketing infrastructure proposal to him indicating what it would cost the company were I to implement the many varied missing pieces the group needed for it to be successful. "Wow," I thought, "I did it! I stood up for myself and now I'm going to be paid for work I enjoy and needs to be done!" In the next few days I put together a kickass proposal and sent it off for review. And then I waited.

Let's just say the proposal didn't take flight. That's not to say that everything in it wasn't confirmed by the director as needing to be implemented. But my being compensated for doing the implementation, no go (no money to spare, blah, blah, blah). I was bummed. But, even more so, I was pissed off. I mean here I was finally trying to wrap my head around how to properly represent myself as a professional and I got nowhere. Bills still piling up. Stress still oozing from my pores about finances and debt and lack of retirement savings let alone college funds or musical instrument rentals in a few short years...I admit it, I wasn't "staying in the day" but I was where I was and it wasn't pretty. Much of this year has felt like a crazy dance of 2 steps forward and not just 1 but 3 steps backward. Just when I started to feel like the learning and supposed personal growth were going to produce lovely fruit in the future (even if I couldn't imagine what it would look like), my hope was dashed by the result of behaving in new ways that "should" have been better for me. Hoping against hope is tough sometimes. 

So that's when I hit up the DMV. I trotted down there knowing I was in for a long line and wait. And true to form, there was indeed a long line and wait. But as I sat there (having to pee in the worst way with the women's restroom "Out of Order"), I had the chance to look around. Now I live in a fairly affluent area- not me personally, mind you, but the area as a whole around me- and I was struck by the different kinds of people also waiting in line. There were many cultures represented and ages ranged from the "eyes popping excited to get a driving learner's permit" to the "I'm handing off my 1970 Pinto to my grandson who's getting his learner's permit." There were obviously single moms with kids in tow to "DINKS" (double income no kids). There was outdated fashion, bad fashion, no fashion. But the person who struck me most was a woman in her 60's or so that was dressed to the nines in what had to be a near couture getup. She was so perfectly coifed and attired that I found myself looking at her in contrast to everyone else in that dreary office that day. I couldn't help but think to myself one comforting thing: It doesn't matter who you are, where you live, what kind of money you make, what you do for work, etc. If you want to hit the highways in these here United States of America, you have to wait in line, just like everyone else, to get that picture taken or your personal signature on some form. 

There it was. My condolence and comfort and even hope. The DMV, the great equalizer, the very real place where no matter your lot in life, you're just like everyone else and you have to wait in line just like everyone else does. 

I left feeling somehow uplifted and I continue to go back to the image and lesson therein almost daily. We're all in it together this thing called life on earth. We might not know what each other's "it" is, but "it" is there and we all have "it." I truly believe there is strength in numbers.

To blog or not to blog...Why not?

Here it is: my inaugural blog post.

Do I think anyone will be interested? Most likely, no. So why create a blog, right?!

Like most things, it's more about me than anyone or anything else. Not in the selfish sense - though that certainly rears its ugly head more often than not - but in the "better out than in" sense. I figure it's better to get the many unrelated (and often insane) thoughts out of my head rather than allowing them to live therein "rent free."

Admittedly, most of my thoughts are of no consequence whatsoever to another- let alone me. On the other hand, I'm a true believer that there is power in shared experience. As such, perhaps my "shared experience" can prove powerful for someone- including me.

The term "powerful" in this case doesn't mean "having great power or strength" but rather "having an effect on people's feelings or thoughts." An "effect" need not be grand or emphatic to be, in fact, an "effect."

I often underestimate the many small, cumulative effects in my life that amount to a large effect somewhere down the road. Underestimated or not, though, these little effects are powerful in there own right and worthy of note.

That said, I suppose this online journal (aka blog) is my selfish attempt to sleuth out the little effects in my life in the hope of discovering their power and noteworthiness somewhere down the line. If someone else can relate or, better yet, shed some light on this process, then I welcome that shared experience.